


a boy who falls like leaves

by stellatiate



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellatiate/pseuds/stellatiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/289959">Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red</a>." Nothing will stop Kala from trying. </p><p> </p><p>-—kala & wolfgang. s1, just turn the wheel and the future changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a boy who falls like leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanxla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanxla/gifts).



> my first sense8 fic, just wanted to dabble around because i love this show so much. also since i had to axe your birthday gift i thought this would be a fair replacement.

She wakes up in the middle of a dream unable to breathe. Kala can’t quite grasp the reality of being connected to so many people at once when she struggles with herself on a daily basis, so when she slips out of her bed with her palms pressed into the floor, she focuses on steadying her breathing first. She can’t help anyone if she hyperventilates herself into a fainting spell.

The best way she can describe it is a lantern fastened to the end of a sailboat at sea, flickering in and out of existence with every violent wave. Each wave is a different emotion, though, and sometimes Kala is swallowed up within it or being battered against the shore from it.

It’s the steam that catches her off guard. Heavy like mist, it takes her a moment to find her way through it. Her bare feet slosh through the water around her, and she yelps when the scalding hot water finally soaks through her thick hair and clings to her scalp. With her hands covering the top of her head, she stumbles out of the shallow curtain of water from the shower, sliding to the floor clumsily.

A curse slips out from the steam.

Kala feels around uselessly, turns the corner from the shower and spots the bathtub. And maybe if any of the other sensates were attentive enough, they may have also strained their eyes from the excessive roll she’d offered.

“It’s always you, isn’t it?” There is no inflection in his voice, no wit or cynicism. The taste of defeat on his tongue is bitter in her mouth, and she frowns as she gets to her feet. Kala’s footsteps splash through the wet floor and rather than turn the shower off, she slinks her way closer to the bathtub. From the side, he looks asleep; his body is curled into the water, his hair soaked through to dirty blonde.

It doesn’t feel right to snap at him when he’s like this. She kneels down and her eyes shamelessly track through the bubbles in the water. In all honesty, she has seen so much of him that nothing seems to be new to her anymore. Her fingers are cold against his clammy skin and she walks the points of her nails up his cheek and threads them into his hair.

“What are you doing in here?” A simple enough question to roll off of her tongue, and yet Wolfgang simply snorts, turning away from her. “It looks like a tsunami.”

She can feel soap underneath her fingertips and when she leans closer, she notices. Angry claw marks run down his back, swerve to curl their way underneath his ribs. His cheeks are flush the same angry color streaked across his back, and it flashes with self-loathing like bile in the back of her throat.

It nearly makes Kala choke with unfamiliarity.

“Stop,” she hesitates when she moves her hand to the edge of the tub, but all it takes is a gentle pivot before she is kneeling in the water with him. It washes into her skin as if she had been sitting there with him the entire time, and water spills onto the floor. Her hands are firm when she curls them around his forearms, stares into his eyes, “stop _doing_ this to yourself.”

In the back of her mind, she wonders what time it is for the other sensates, wonders what they are doing. She is so overwhelmed with Wolfgang’s sadness and fury and apathy that she cannot seem to tune into them in those split seconds.

“Selfish,” he laughs bitterly, an afterthought to her speculation, one that earns him a hard press of her hands into his skin. Kala inches forward until she is sitting in his lap, water soaking into her clothes. She ignores the feeling of his body underneath hers the best that she can because it isn’t what she’s interested in when the part of her that wishes to heal him cries out for help.

Kala rinses the soap out of his hair with a soothing, circular motion; the water spills over his head from her cupped hands and into his eyes. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” His voice is quiet again and she doesn’t like it.

“You know I’m not.”

“You’re close enough,” he counters hotly, “so you can help me.”

He grabs her wrist and she feels his fingers burn there, like their imprint will be permanent. Wolfgang shoves a bar of soap into her palms and when he finds her eyes, they scorch more than his touch. Kala feels tears in the back of her eyes, feels them sweeping towards her lashes at an alarming rate.

“Help me wash off the blood.” A monster, she thinks, but not one without a conscience. She bites down on her bottom lip as hard as she can manage, rubbing soap between her fingers before she tucks her hands behind him. Kala lets her fingers slip along his skin, tracing down the red trenches he’d already torn into his own skin, wills herself to feel the way it burns across her own skin. Her touch is gentle and intimidated all the same, and she draws up a handful of water to rinse over his back.

Wolfgang pretends that she can’t feel the scars that climb their way up his spine when she spreads her palms along his back. He simply closes his eyes and lets her continue until some cautionary part of his mind registers just how much she can feel.

“Hey,” he barks and his eyes flash open. It scares Kala how fast they lock onto her, and she flinches involuntarily at the surprise. “You’re not me, okay? Stop making yourself hurt because—”

“You’re wrong!” Her fists slam into the water, shaking. “You’re wrong, because I _am_ you, and I am Sun, and you are Riley, and we—we’re all each other. Maybe if you thought about each time you hurt yourself and remembered you’re hurting us too—”

“Just get _out_ , Kala.”

Her name sounds like an echo in his throat, like it was never meant to find its way out. Kala weeps silently, without her body shaking, without her voice chiming, without sound. With the soap carefully pressed into her hand, she folds herself into his grip and cries for him.

Maybe that is why he can’t bring himself to comfort her.

Kala has never been so disappointed to be thrown back onto the floor of her room. Her face is still damp with tears and she knows he may not want to feel it, but she wraps her arms around herself as tightly as she can. This time, when she cries into her own arms, it is nothing but noiseless. She hopes that he can feel her touch and her sadness and all of the overwhelming emotions she feels for him.

He remembers he’s hurting her, too.


End file.
